return to essence
Nov 14, 2024
Her ways are older than the sun,
more varied than the moon,
sweeter than the seasons,
Love spun from the conception of darkness,
glitter of stars,
dew of first mosses,
advent of wings.
Come to Mama, dear one.
She waits at your belly with Her Hum
passing over the moat of Her Inexhaustible Waters,
desire the bridge to take you there.
Come to Mama, Creation’s Instrument,
serving the communion that You and She
are One Remarkable Song.
Bend toward Her now.
Kneel and bow
in that holy belonging place
where life stretches to the size of Great Cosmic Mother
and rattles you ready
to raise a new story
of Her Mercy and Grace.